SuperWholock Omens
by Gina Tsukiko
Summary: the Doctor has been sidetracked to a little bookstore in London. The Apocalypse has already happened? Short Drabble, may be more.
1. Chapter 1

**This is going up un-edited and at 1 o'clock in the morning. Please excuse all spelling/ooc/grammar/whatever. Did this on a whim. Will most likely be continued, we'll see. Rating may change.**

** Do not own any fandoms….besides a tumblr….**

Aziraphale reorganized his receipts, completely unaware of his repetitive motions. This was the third time today that he had done this, the fourth time that week that he had found himself in this kind of daze. Soon to be the fifth.

He glanced at the door, the shop sign flipped to closed, hoping for a certain someone to come strolling in. After a minute, Aziraphale sighed and restacked his receipts. He considered doing a little dusting, but dismissed the thought for a cup of tea instead.

The steam from the fresh tea curled around him as he sat delicately on the old couch in the back. Out of sight of the door, he strained his ears for any sign of approach.

He thought back to the Apocalypse-that-never-was and smiled. It had been stressful, and he still cringed at his behavior to the Metatron, but Adam was a good kid so he wasn't that worried. Aziraphale thought about all that he and Crowley had talked about and all that they had done together. It was interesting to raise a kid (even the wrong one) and wondered if they would ever have a chance to do anything like that again.

Aziraphale sipped his tea anxiously. It had been almost two weeks since he and Crowley had spoken after that day. The first week was understandable, both Above and Below were sending them on all kinds of goose-chasing missions. Aziraphale assumed that anyone but he and Crowley was upset with the way things had turned out and were just trying to keep them from being to proud of themselves. Pride being one of the major sins, Aziraphale wasn't too upset by the increase of work, but the missions had tapered off and had been waiting patiently for Crowley to be free too. They were due a congratulatory drinking binge. There was this nice little café in Italy Aziraphale wanted to visit again…

The front door bell jerked Aziraphale to the present, almost spilling the tea all over.

"I-I'll be there in a second dear!" He set his tea down carefully before bursting into the storefront.

Standing in the middle of the shelves stood a scruffy looking man, his hands all over his precious books. The angel felt a most un-angelic combination of disappointment and anger at the innocent stranger. Aziraphale recovered quickly and smiled his best angelic, get-your-hands-off-my-books smile.

"Hello, can I help you today sir?" The angel's smile could turn a car-salesman's stomach. The man just smiled back unperturbed, returning the book to it's spot. Aziraphale couldn't help frowning a little at the disturbed dust standing out around the book.

"Ah, actually I was just looking for some information. Well, not information really, more directions. Well, maybe a bit of both." The man stuffed his hands into his big brown overcoat. He had a pin striped suit underneath from what Aziraphale could see and his brown hair was scruffy looking, most likely from running his hands through it nervously. As the angel was giving him the once over, the man had started rocking back and forth in his trainers.

Aziraphale shook his head and smiled again. "Well, there is a nice little café around the corner that sells really good maps." Something was wrong here. There was just something about this man that wasn't right; something not normal.

The man scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Ah, actually, it's not that simple. You see I…." Aziraphale zoned out and focused more on what he was seeing. It was incredibly rude of him, but he felt he was vindicated in just _looking_ closer. Something inside shifted as Aziraphale turned up his senses. Nothing incredibly odd with what he looked like, besides his eyes. There was a deep sadness in them that didn't seem to match his young appearance. And…and there was something else. Heedless of the fact that the man had stopped talking, Aziraphale closed his eyes.

There. A faint rhythm outside the norm. Ba-ba-ba-bum. Ba-ba-ba-bum

"You have two hearts." Aziraphale opened his eyes to find that the man was pointing some kind of pencil device at him. He looked at it quizzically, then back at the man. "Who are you?" The man raised an eyebrow, and smirked.

"Well, that's new. It's been a while since I met someone new." He put away his…whatever it was….and extended his hand to the angel. "Nice to meet you, I'm the Doctor."

"I'm Ezr-, uh, Aziraphale. It's a pleasure to meet you dear." They shook, a genuine smile on the angel's face this time. "I've never met a Gallifreyan before, this is a treat. Can I get you some tea? It's fresh." Aziraphale didn't wait for a response, but simply headed towards the kettle.

The man—The Doctor, followed behind with a funny grin, bouncing around like an excited puppy. "That's brilliant! You know who I am but don't _know_ who I am. There hasn't been some other bloke with two hearts wandering around has there?" The angel smiled serenely and handed the Doctor his cup.

"No, sorry dear. Is he who you're looking for?"

"Ah, no. You see I was traveling when my, uh, ship was pulled in by some really large energy signals. Like, end of the world large." He checked his watch. "Although, I might be a bit early….is that late?" The Doctor glanced over at Aziraphale who had gone grey. The Doctor's face fell.

"I'm late." Aziraphale jerked a little before smiling again.

"No no dear, not late. Well, yes, it has already happened, but we're all just ducky. There's nothing to worry about." The Doctor was still a bit perturbed, but something about the other man's clear, piercing blue eyes calmed him. He suddenly became hyper again.

"Well, that's good to hear. I'll just, uh, I'll just go and take a look-see then. See if everything's, ah, ship-shape and all that." Aziraphale watched the Doctor glance distractedly around the room before he left. Aziraphale smiled into his now cold cup of tea.

"I bet Crowley will be so disappointed he missed meeting an alien today. He always had a knack for that crop circle madness." Aziraphale jumped out of his skin, knocking the teacup across the room to explode against a bookshelf. He raced around the couch and picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"A-Angel?...Help."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: again, this is written at about 2 in the morning, so don't get your hopes up. I'll be lucky if this even turns out the way I want it to. Enjoy if you can. **

12 years earlier

"I'm just sayin', it wouldn't hurt them to just try a _little_. They spend all their time grunging around _damning_ people when they should just…just…let loose once in a while." Crowley swung his arms about enthusiastically, almost splattering his white couch with the horribly expensive wine.

"Grunging? I don't think it's quite right to make up words Crowley dear." Aziraphale calmly refilled his own glass, hardly slurring a bit. They hadn't quite managed to get themselves into a proper drunken escapade, but they were well on their way.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Hello Angel. Have we met? I'm a demon, I think 's my G…Hel…Whosever's given right to do what I damn well please!" He flung himself across the couch, nearly kicking Aziraphales glass out of his hands. Aziraphale gently moved Crowley's feet from his lap.

"I think you have had about enough now dear." He snagged the wine bottle from Crowley's reach before he could down the rest of it in spite. "We both have work that needs doing. Idle hands and all that." Crowley groaned.

"What's the point?!" As Aziraphale went to put away the dirty glasses Crowley sobered with a thought. "You do some do-gooding, I do some do-bading, it just all cancels out. Why do we have to do anything but whatever we want?" An image of a particularly good activity jumped into his mind of what he and the angel could be doing.

"Sloth is a sin, dear. And because, it's ineffable. It's what we were meant to do; it's all part of His—"

"Yeah yeah, 'His-great-ineffable-all-powerful-plan' speech. Heard that one before." Aziraphale held the door open and the two left Crowley's loft. As the door closed the plants visibly slumped, glad not to have been hit with any flying glass.

The two super-powerful beings stood on the street corner, just watching the humans stroll by, trying to avoid the actual parting of ways. Crowley turned away and looked out towards the duck pond that the two would frequent occasionally.

"So, what are you up to today angel? Off to go convince some pimply teenager it's alright to—" Aziraphale cut him off.

"No. No, actually, I have some business to oversee across the pond. Things have gotten a little out of hand recently, and the Upstairs are getting a might bit antsy." Crowley stared at the pond, then back to the angel. Aziraphale smiled back ignorantly.

Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and smirked. "Yeah, I agree, those ducks need a stern talking to. Not sure what the world would come to without ya angel." Aziraphale blushed a bit.

"That's not what I meant and you know it. Do you always have to be so…"

"Evil?"

"Stubborn. Stubborn was what I was going to say." Crowley chuckled and gave the angel a little smile as he miracled himself to the states. Crowley was about to do the same (at least not to the same place, because that would be ridiculous) when some toff came up and started sniffing him.

You read that right; sniffing him.

Crowley looked at the man from over his sunglasses, perturbed. The man didn't seem to notice, although he had apparently gotten a good enough whiff when he stepped back and started staring back intensely. Crowley would have been able to work with it if it had been his kind of intense staring, the kind that screams "come hither" from across a bad-lit bar. But this was the kind of blatant awkward staring that would usually give one the goosebumps.

The two just stood there…staring. Crowley got some satisfaction from the aggravation radiating off the other passerby, but it was bittersweet. He was about to miracle himself a handy-dandy disaster when he spoke.

"May I borrow your mobile?"

_That has got to be the worst hello I have ever heard._

Crowley handed over his sleek, up to date, cutting edge, top of the line mobile without a word. He was a little crushed when the man didn't even blink at the expensive piece of hardware. He was contemplating changed some of his strategies when it came to tempting strangers in the fine art of envy when the phone was suddenly shoved back into his hand. Or his personal bubble anyway. When Crowley went to take it back, he noticed that very little of the man's skin was actually showing.

The creepy mortal was wearing gloves with a matching blue scarf and trench coat. He was also wearing a very strange hat with earflaps. Crowley made a note to add that to the runway line up for the next show in Milan.

"Thanks." Crowley watched the man walk into the nearest café. He could see from the reflections in the room that the man was watching him as he sat down. Crowley just stood there for a few moments, staring right back (although it was hard to tell with the sunglasses).

"Well…I wonder how the angel's day is going."

Crowley turned to go back to his apartment, unaware that the man at the café had pulled out his own phone and texted a quick message before he immediately left leaving a different way that he had come.

**BRIMSTONE, SULFUR, APPLES?**


End file.
